Paragon of Kings
by sanscomment
Summary: AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of Blaine Anderson and his band of barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Magic. War. Death.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: **Paragon of Kings  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of the barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Ransom. Magic. War. Death.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> I don't own Glee or Game of Thrones  
><strong>SHIPS<strong>: Hevans with others to add in

**A/N:** This idea has grabbed ahold of me and won't let me go. I am trying to write Last Five Years, but I've hit a road block with it. Hopefully getting this helps get things moving over there. Please do not review asking me to update that. I'm trying so hard to write it, you guys have no idea.

And now for something completely different.

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><p>The Winter was long. Darkness encompassed the land. Even the days grew dark, the weather mirroring the trying times. Sickness plagued the Western Kingdom unlike anything seen in the past. From the western coast straight to the Great Divide, the Sickness ravaged town and city alike. The dead rested where they fell often times in the middle of the streets. No one was safe.<p>

Death hung heavy in the air. No one knew how the Sickness passed from one person to another. There was no rhyme or reason to it. It was as if the gods were punishing them for some reason. What they did to upset the gods was anyone's guess, but that was the only explanation for it.

No one was safe. Once the Sickness chose its victim, they rarely survived.

From the peasants on the streets to the slaves in their quarters, the men in the fields to the King and Queen in their beds, no one was safe. There was no cure. There was nothing to do but wait for death. Sometimes it was a quick death during the night. Other times, it was a long and drawn out death, full of pain and misery.

As the Queen lay dying, she made her final request, and an odd one at that. Since no one knew how the Sickness spread, very few people were brave enough to visit the Queen. The King was banned, out of fear of losing both monarchs. The Prince was too young to understand what was going on. While he was bright for his age, the last thing that the Queen wanted was to infect their only son. She missed her family, but she was barely lucid any more. She spent most of her time under the covers in her feather bed.

The sentry at the door was clearly confused when the Queen requested the presence of her favored slave's child. The boy was nothing special, a year younger than the Prince and a slave much like his mother. He was the scum of the earth according to most, not worthy of the treatment that he received. He was babied and often times treated like another Prince, especially where the Queen was concerned.

The small slave was dying as well. Unlike the Queen, he was condemned to the slave quarters. He was to die in the windowless cells of the dungeons, alone. No one cared about the slaves. They could always be replaced. They were below the peasants. They were worthless, they were nothing.

Still, the Queen wanted the little slave. The child was brought up to the Queen's bedchambers and placed in the bed next to the dying woman. His head was dotted in sweat from the fever. His little body struggled to fight the Sickness in him, and was clearly failing. The Queen wrapped her arms around the boy and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "Mistress?" his little voice called out. His blue-green eyes opened as he stared at his Queen.

"Sush, child," she whispered, her voice as small as his.

He coughed weakly, causing the Queen to pull him closer. The little boy let out a weak sob against his Queen's shoulder. The differences were striking. The Queen sat in her bed clothes, which were still infinitely more regal and beautiful than the rags that the child was forced to wear. The boy was skin and bones, the Sickness ravaging his poor body.

"The long Winter is ending, child," she whispered, pulling the boy under the covers with her, shielding him from the cold and bitter world as she held him close. The child looked up at his Queen in confusion. He was tired and sick and wanted nothing but the end. His fate was in the hands of the gods now, much like the Queen's. "Soon, the clouds will part and the snow shall end. The Summer will be upon us, and let us pray that it is even longer than this past Winter."

The woman's voice was hushed as the seven year old boy wrapped his hand in the Queen's dress, his cheek resting against the woman's chest. They both burned with fever, but found comfort in each other's arms.

After a few long moments of silence, the boy spoke up. "Mistress? Will I ever see the Summer?" he whispered. The real question was a terrible one that no one wanted to answer. It was most likely that the boy would die within this moon. He would never know the warmth of the sun on his face, or the smell of the grass.

Still, the Queen ran her fingers through the boy's shaggy blond locks. "Of course you will, child. You will see this Summer, and the one after that, and the one after that. You will grow tall and strong, my child. And when you are ready, the gods shall deliver you a gift worthy of a King." The little boy's tears continued to fall against the soft fabric of the Queen's dress.

"There is no need to cry now," she whispered, kissing his head once again. "There is no need to be scared. When the Prince is of the proper age, you will be my final gift to him. He will need you more than he lets on, and you will need him just as much. Take care of my boy and he will take care of you."

The boy didn't understand what was happening, nor the gravity of the Queen's words. Her voice soothed him and put him at ease. His mind was not fully capable of processing the events of the night. It was clouded and ill, much like the rest of his body.

"Promise me. Promise me, please," she whispered, sounding desperate for the first time of the night.

"Anything for you, Your Grace," he whispered, whimpering against the pain shooting through his body as he repositioned himself in the bed. His hand was now playing with the Queen's bright auburn hair.

"In exchange for your obedience, I have one final gift to give you," she whispered. "You must not tell anyone of this evening. If anyone asks, the mad Queen rambled on about nonsense, understood?" When the boy nodded against her shoulder, she moved slightly to get a better look at him. Her eyes were cloudy and tired. His were as bright as ever. The Queen peaked his curiosity, and even in the grasp of Death himself, that curiosity bubbled through him.

The woman nodded slowly, pulling the boy into a weak hug, his upper body resting across her chest as she began whispering in a foreign tongue. Her grip was tight as the boy struggled to get away. Weakness overpowered the boy as he whimpered and whined against the Queen. Her words seemed to never stop as a blinding heat ran through his veins. His eyes clenched shut as his little hands balled into fists. He never screamed. As terrible as the pain got, he forced his way through it.

After an arduous five minutes, the chanting ended and the pain ebbed away, leaving an exhausted slave resting across the body of his dying Mistress. "I always knew that you were special," the Queen whispered as the blond slave struggled to remain conscious. "May the old gods protect you." She kissed his head one final time as her grip loosened on the boy. "One day, we shall meet again, my King."

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><p><em>Nine years later…<em>

"Is that all you've got, slave?" Prince Kurt laughed as his blond slave collapsed to his knees in front of his Master. The sun bore down on the pair as they practiced their swordsmanship. It was unheard of for a slave to be trained in such a way, but the Prince got what he wanted. If his slave was to protect him, he needed to know how to fight. Despite his weak lungs, his slave was a good opponent. He pushed Kurt to get better and knew how to lose with dignity.

"Up," Kurt commanded. His slave had no choice but to listen, standing on shaky feet with the dulled blade clasped in both hands. Breathing was always difficult for the boy. After his bout with the Sickness, his lungs were left permanently damaged. The slave made no attempt at eye contact with the Prince. "Again."

With that, the blond lifted his blade and began sparring with Prince Kurt again. It never mattered how exhausted he was, training was over when the Prince deemed it so. The slave was bigger than his Master in both height and strength. Despite that, his movements were quick and precise. Unlike a real opponent, the slave knew his Prince's weak spots and exactly how to defeat him. That being said, when the instructor was present, Kurt never lost a fight.

Before long, Kurt disarmed his slave and had the dull blade positioned under his chin. A look of smug satisfaction stretched across his face as he lowered his blade. "Go run me a warm bath, slave," he ordered.

"Yes, Master," he whispered, bowing his head and heading towards the castle. His lungs grew tired and each breath was a struggle, but his Master gave him a command, and he knew that he would be in trouble if his duties were not carried out. Finding strength buried deep within himself, he managed to make it to the castle and up to the Prince's tower. The process of heating the water for the bath was tiring, yet relaxing at the same time. It gave him a chance to get a drink and rest his lungs.

When the Prince returned, the slave found himself on his knees in front of him once again. The slave knew his place. He didn't make eye contact, he didn't utter a word. He lived for his Master. Kurt took the slave's chin in his hand and forced him to look up at him. A smile decorated his face once their eyes met. "You've been holding back, haven't you, Sam?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I don't know what you mean, Master," Sam whispered.

Kurt shook his head and ruffled the dirty blond hair on Sam's head. "We both know you're a better swordsman than that. While I appreciate your attempts at making me look good, we both know that if it were a fair fight, you would win."

Feeling his Master's walls dropping, Sam let a smile sneak out. "Yes. You are fast, but predictable, Master. It would take little effort to disarm you." He let out a small chuckle as his eyes looked to the ground.

A hearty laugh bubbled out of Kurt as he let go of Sam's chin. "Stand up, Sam." The blond boy stood, clearly having over half a head on his Prince. Kurt's hand gently moved along Sam's jaw line, sending an odd sensation through the slave. "Grab your training sword. I want a fair fight."

"Master, your bath will grow cold," Sam whispered, shaking his head.

"That was an order, Samuel. Disobey and you'll sleep in the slave quarters tonight without supper," he stated simply, glancing down at his nails while he waited. Biting down on his lower lip, Sam walked over to his small corner of the room and grabbed his sword. Kurt already had his in hand.

"Hold back and you will suffer my wrath, understand?"

Sam nodded mutely as Kurt started the fight. Metal sounded against metal as the two moved around the room. At first, Sam held back, not wanting to accidentally hurt his Master, but a simple glare from Kurt had Sam moving at full speed, not holding back anything. In less than a minute, Kurt's sword flew from his hand, landing across the room. Sam smiled as he held the tip of his sword out at his Prince.

With a single nod, the pair dissolved into laughter. Sam's lungs burned as he leaned against the wall, panting and gasping for breath. "Have you seen the Healer recently?" Kurt asked, worry coloring his features. "Your lungs seem weaker than usual."

Sam shook his head. "What good would that do me? He would tell me the same thing he always tells me, make me drink some disgusting potion and send me on my way. It never does any good. I will always be this tired and weak. Besides, the flowers are in bloom all over the city, it doesn't help."

The worry did not disappear from Kurt's face as he watched his slave struggle. There was nothing he could do to help the man, and it hurt him. He was the Prince of the entire Western Kingdom, yet his slave's lungs remained unhealed. "When was the last time you prayed to the gods for relief?" Kurt offered, making Sam laugh.

"Your gods are not my gods, your Grace," he whispered.

"The gods are the gods, whether new or old. Asking them for help may seem folly, but with any luck, they'll hear your prayers and help you."

Sam shook his head again. "The gods do not listen to the prayers of slaves, Master. We mean nothing on this plane as well as the next."

Kurt frowned. He knew that many of the slaves thought this way. It was beaten into them by the slave masters. His slave still had the scars on his back from the beatings he received as a child. It was the way of the world, and Kurt could not stop it. Samuel was the only exception. Sam was the son of his mother's favored slave. That being said, they grew up in close quarters. While Kurt followed his mother around like a lost dog, Sam accompanied his mother. Their mothers were often together, forcing them together. At first, Kurt did not understand why his playmate wore rags and was treated differently. As they grew older, the understanding sunk in. After the death of the Queen, the special treatment ended. While his father was fond of the female slave, the child meant nothing to him.

After four rough years at the feet of the slave masters, the blond child was gifted to the Prince at his late mother's wishes. The spark inside of the boy was gone. The smile that Kurt was once fond of never appeared. His mother, while favored by the King, was viewed as nothing more than a broodmare for the King. The monarch never remarried, but needed heirs. While many frowned at the idea of royal blood mixing with the dirty blood of a slave, the King paid no heed. That being said, Sam had four younger siblings. Technically, they were Kurt's younger siblings as well, but the words were never brought up. They were treated like Princes and Princesses, while Sam and his mother remained slaves to the House of Hummel.

Kurt continued to stare at his slave, watching as his breaths came easier. He patted his friend on the back. "I will get you some tonic after supper. It should be enough to clear out the residual pain in your chest."

"You don't have to do that, Master," Sam whispered, shaking his head. "I will never be able to repay your kindness."

Sighing, Kurt wrapped his thin arms around his slave, pulling him close. Sam rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, still pulling his shuttering breaths. "You may be my slave, Sam, but you are so much more than that," he whispered. "I know that you can't see it, but you mean more to me than words can ever describe. You are my friend, my true friend. Don't you ever forget that, understood?"

Sam nodded as he pulled away from his Master, still looking down at the floor. "Your bath grows cold, Master," he sighed, leading Kurt over towards the tub of water. Kurt dipped his hand in it and smiled at Sam.

"You always make the water too hot, Sam. Now it is the prefect temperature." He pulled the slave's head down and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Now help me out of these clothes."

The slave made quick work of Kurt's wardrobe, being careful not to cause any damage. Kurt loved his clothing. It was extravagant and beautiful, just like the young Prince. After carefully hanging it in the wardrobe, Sam turned to see Kurt sinking into the water. His Prince was beautiful. His porcelain skin had a glow to it that baffled Sam. His chestnut hair remained perfect save for a few instances that were not to be spoken of. Lean muscle defined his chest and arms. Still, it was his face that mystified Sam the most. It was perfect, just like Kurt. From the angle of his jaw to the curve of his nose, up to the piercing blue eyes… perfection.

"You're staring again, Sam," Kurt laughed as Sam fumbled to gather a washcloth and some soap.

"Sorry, Master," he apologized quickly as he ran the soft cloth along his Master's arms to clean off the grime from the day's activities. Suddenly, Kurt's hand was on top of his. Slowly, Sam looked up at Kurt's face, fearing the worst. The other boy was smiling gently and shaking his head.

"There is no reason to be scared, Sam…" he sighed. "There is no reason to apologize. In this room, you are safe. Remember that."

Sam nodded again and went back to cleaning Kurt. It got to a point where Kurt took the cloth and washed himself, leaving Sam on his knees by the tub to watch. He loved watching Kurt do anything, whether it be reading on the veranda, sitting in his bath, or even sleeping.

"If it weren't for supper, I would have you join me in here," Kurt laughed, causing Sam to blush. "Perhaps another day. Would you like that Sam? A day spent in bed?" Sam went an even deeper shade of red. Kurt loved to tease his slave, and tonight would be no exception. The pair shared a special bond, one that no one would be able to shake.

"If that is what you desire, your Grace," he muttered.

Once again, Kurt's hand found his chin and forced Sam to look at him. "I wasn't asking you to tell me what I wanted, Sam. I wanted to know if you would like that."

Sam sputtered a few times, staring into his Master's bright blue eyes for a few long moments before he finally nodded.

"Then it shall be done. A day of well-deserved rest for a Prince and his slave." He ruffled Sam's hair with his wet hand and Sam immediately tried to straighten it out. Kurt kept his hair shorter than most slaves'. He claimed that the short cut made him handsome. Who was Sam to argue with such a compliment?

"Of course, we might not get a lot of rest in," he whispered in Sam's ear, causing the blond slave to shiver in pleasure. Blushing again, Sam hid behind his Master's back, his hands slowly moving across his back. After such a long day, Kurt deserved a massage of sorts, and Sam was always willing to give that to him.

A soft moan escaped the Prince as Sam worked the knots out of his back. It was a sound that Sam grew to love. A moan like that meant that he was making his Master feel good. It made him swell up with pride and happiness. After all, Kurt's happiness was his happiness. "By the gods, your hands are magical," Kurt whispered.

"You've told me many times, your Grace," Sam teased quietly, this time leaving Kurt blushing.

"Then it must be the truth," he smiled. Sam's fingers continued moving across Kurt's back, causing the Prince to moan softly and lean forward in the tub to allow Sam's hands more access to his body. Time was lost on the pair. They were both happy and at peace.

Suddenly, the door swung open without a warning. Sam's eyes went wide as he removed his hands from the water, immediately looking at the ground.

"Have you not heard of knocking, Santana?" Kurt drawled, staring at the young woman standing in the doorway.

The girl scoffed and continued to stare at the pair, her arms crossing her chest. "Why must I knock to visit my future husband?" she asked, her eyes boring a hole into Sam.

"I have not proposed yet, Santana. Continue acting in this manner and father will simply have to find a better match for me," he stated simply.

"I apologize for ruining your intimate session with your slut, your Grace." The girl didn't sound sorry at all. Before Kurt had a chance to reprimand her for calling Sam a slut, she continued. "Alas, I am hungry, as are your bastard siblings. Supper is waiting on you. I would get out of that tub this instant and dress for supper."

"Who are you to order me around? I take orders from no one, especially not a woman," he scoffed.

Santana's giggle filled the air as she walked closer. "Silly, silly Prince," she laughed, kneeling next to the tub and running her fingers down Kurt's chest. "I know your dirty little secret, your Grace. I've heard the noises you make when you get alone with your little slut here. You are a disgrace to your name and a disgrace to the gods," she hissed, raking her nails up Kurt's torso, leaving raised red skin in their wake.

A low growl escaped Sam, but he remained in his place. "Your slave has a pretty head," she smiled, taking her other hand and running it along Sam's jaw. "I would hate to see it rolling across the ground." Without another word, she stood and walked to the door, turning around and flashing a smile at the boys before departing.

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><p><strong>AN:** So what do you guys think? It is different than what I normally write, and there is a sprawling plot line in my head. There are many other Glee characters that lie in wake as the story develops.

I will not tell you what ships are in store, but planned characters include, but are not limited to: Blaine Anderson, Mercedes Jones, Noah Puckerman, Stacey and Stevie Evans, Burt Hummel, Brittany Pierce, and others.

Please leave a review if you're interested in this story continuing. I promise a tale of romance, drama, magic, love, and danger.


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE: **Paragon of Kings  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of Blaine Anderson and his band of barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Betrayal. Magic. War. Death.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> I don't own Glee or Game of Thrones  
><strong>SHIPS<strong>: Hevans with others to add in. Sambastian in this chapter.

**WARNINGS:** Non-con.

* * *

><p>Without warning, Kurt stood up and hopped out of the tub of water. Sam quickly stood up as well, not saying a word as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his Master, drying him as quickly as possible. To be honest, Sam was terrified. It wasn't the first time that Santana threatened his head. No matter how often Kurt reassured him that no harm would come to him, the fear still sat deep within his chest.<p>

The blond ran to the wardrobe to find suitable clothing for his Master. His arms shook as he pulled out Master's favorite informal outfit and placed it on his bed. Sam barely realized that he was shaking until he felt Kurt's arms wrap around his shoulders. "Calm down, Sam," Kurt whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Sam's neck.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered.

"Don't apologize, Sam," Kurt sighed, rubbing his hands down Sam's arms. Sam's body was tense. His Master was pressing up against him. His naked Master was pressing up against his back. "It's okay to be afraid. To be honest, she scares me too. Don't let her know that you're scared though, I do believe that she can smell it." A forced chuckle rumbled against Sam's back.

The two stood in silence for a few long moments before Kurt moved away from his slave and started dressing. It didn't take long to slip the clothing on. Turning to face he slave, Kurt saw his friend sitting on his bed. The small bed in the far corner of the room could barely be considered such. It was little more than a wooden frame with blankets on top. It was nothing like the soft feather bed that Kurt had.

Slowly, Kurt made his way over to sit on the bed, wrapping a comforting arm around his slave. Sam rested his head against Kurt's shoulder. "Accompany me to supper?" Kurt finally asked.

Sam removed his head from Kurt's shoulder and stared at him for a few long moments. "For what occasion, Master?" he managed. Usually, it was only on a rare occurrence that Sam was allowed supper in the main dining room. Most of the time, he went down to the slave quarters for his meals.

"I do not want you to leave my side. Perhaps your mother will be there as well. I know that you miss her," he smiled, pushing some hair around on his slave's forehead. Sam nodded and slowly stood. He didn't get to see his mother as often as he wanted, especially since Kurt rarely left his side.

Kurt led his slave through the halls of the castle. Sam kept his eyes on the floor as he walked through the castle. While he knew his way around fairly well, he felt much more secure with Kurt's strong grip on his arm. No one would bother him if he was with his Master. No one questioned the young Prince. They walked quickly, leaving Sam slightly short of breath by the time that they reached the dining hall.

"You're late," the King's voice drawled from the main table, causing Sam to tense next to Kurt. Kurt let out a small chuckle as he pulled Sam along up to the table. "And you brought along a visitor…" The King did not sound amused. Unfortunately, that was a trigger for the other children to turn around.

"SAMMY!" That was all it took for Sam's head to rise. Before he could process what was happening, he found himself stumbling backwards as two small blond haired children attacked him with a hug. A grin spread across his face as he lifted the boy up into his arms, balancing him on his hip.

"Hello Steven," he smiled before looking down at the girl clinging to his leg. "Stacey…" Stevie wrapped his arms around Sam's neck. It was well known throughout the castle that the four youngest Hummel children were the offspring of a slave. Sam was their brother, yet it was not to be spoken of. As far as the children knew, Sam was their older brother's slave, but that didn't make them love him any less.

Sam looked up at the table and made brief eye contact with the King. From what Sam knew, the King was kind and just, a favorite of the people for years. The man never enjoyed his company. While he was never cruel, he never showed Sam any kind of warmth. Soon, Sam put Stevie down and picked up Stacey, hugging her tight. "Have you been a good girl, Princess?" he asked with a teasing smile.

The girl nodded quickly, beaming at Sam. "Father is teaching me to use a bow!" she grinned excitedly, bouncing slightly in Sam's arms.

"Is he now?" he asked with a big grin at the little girl.

She nodded again, giggling happily. Sam squeezed her tight before putting her down. The pair scurried back to their place at the table. Eyes back on the floor, Sam wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, waiting for an order. Master was sitting next to his father. The four younger children sat on the opposite side of the table, giggling and laughing as they ate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother sitting a distance away from the royal family, picking at food of her own.

It merely took a glance up at Kurt and a nod from his Master for Sam to walk over and join her. She was beginning to show her age, streaks of gray present in her dusty blonde hair. Small wrinkles made their presence known around her eyes and the corners of her lips. A smile graced her features as she wrapped one of her small arms around her son. Sam leaned in to the hug, resting his head on her shoulder. He couldn't remember how long it was since the last time he was physically close to his mother.

"You've grown," Shae smiled, kissing her son's temple.

Sam nodded and wrapped his arms around his mother in a tight hug. "I've missed you," he sighed. At least the King took care of her. From what he heard, there was a good chance that Burt Hummel loved her. She looked healthy and happy. She was clean and appeared well-rested.

"I've missed you too, Sammy," she whispered, kissing the crown of his head as she held him close to her chest, almost cradling him. "Oh, how I've missed you." Suddenly, Sam was no longer hungry. All he wanted to do was hold his mother close and never let her go. Their schedules never matched, and moments like this were rare. For the first time in ages, Samuel felt like the sixteen year old child he truly was. He felt small and scared. Yes, he was nearing manhood, but what slave truly was a man?

After a few long moments of comfortable silence between them, Shae pushed her son away and started piling food onto the plate in front of him. "Eat, child," she whispered. "Build your strength up.'

Her teasing was rewarded with a smile as Sam picked at the chicken on his plate. The food was undoubtedly delicious. The food in the slave quarters was nowhere near this decadent. The chicken melted in his mouth. The vegetables were sweet and tender. Everything was perfect. Finishing the food on his place, his eyes scanned up the table where his Master and King Burt were talking animatedly, amusing the younger children as they did such.

"Does he treat you well?" Shae's asked when she caught her son looking at his Master.

Sam nodded quietly. "He does."

Reaching out, Shae grabbed her son's hand. "Truly, Sam? Truly?" Sam looked over at his mother, seeing the pleading look in her eyes. Even if Kurt was cruel, he would never have the heart to tell his mother that. She finally seemed happy in life, and he didn't want to ruin that for her.

Nodding again, he squeezed his mother's hand comfortingly. "He's wonderful," he smiled quietly. "Honestly and truly, I could not ask for a better Master." His words worked, and his mother relaxed again, smiling gently at her son.

"And you?" Sam finally asked. He never before had the courage to ask his mother how the King truly treated her. He never saw signs of abuse. There were no bruises or cuts. She seemed healthy enough, having gained a slight amount of weight since the last time he had a good look at her. Sam was not stupid, he knew what the King did to his mother. He knew that sex was involved in many ways. Where else would the four younger children come from?

"Burt is lovely," she smiled, glancing up at the King. Sam's heart clenched. She called the King by his name. That was against the rules. Panic shot through him. "Calm down," she sighed, running her fingers through Sam's hair. "He allows me to call him that." Shae did not know all the details of what happened during the four years after the death of the Queen. The female slave was taken in by the King, while her child was sent down to the slave masters. It tore her heart to pieces when she caught glimpses of her once happy son. The carefree boy of the past was gone. She could see in his eyes that he was truly terrified of disobeying his Masters.

After a few tense moments, Sam nodded and looked back down at his plate. Unfortunately, the quiet didn't last long as a knight strode into the dining area. Sam looked up and immediately tensed. "Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace," the tall boy grinned, bowing slightly at the waist as a sign of respect to the King.

The King did not have a chance to respond as Kurt shot up with a grin on his face. "Sebastian Smythe, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" Kurt walked around the table to meet the knight in the middle of the hall. The two watched each other for a few moments before embracing each other in a hug.

"As you know, my nineteenth name day approaches. Who better to spend it with than my favorite Prince?" Sebastian grinned. The Smythe family lived in the bitter cold of the South. They were easily the richest family in all of the Western Kingdom, but preferred to spend time in their frozen wasteland. Kurt's mother was the sister of Sebastian's father, making them cousins by blood. While they never saw each other often, a strong bond of friendship formed.

Turning around, Kurt looked at his father. "Father, may I be excused?" he asked with a grin. It killed Sam that there was another person that could make Kurt smile like that. What hurt even more was the fact that it was a slimeball like Sebastian Smythe. When the King nodded in approval, Sam immediately rose, ready to accompany his Master back to their quarters.

The King shot him a look. "You stay here, boy. I have some matters to discuss with you." Sam could not disobey a direct order from the King, and his heart began to race. Could today possibly get any worse? Sam looked to his Master for help, but Kurt was preoccupied with the arrival of his best friend. "I'll send him along when I'm finished with him, Kurt," Burt explained.

Without even a glance of a goodbye, Kurt and Sebastian left the dining hall. Sam slowly sat down next to his mother, already feeling the separation anxiety. It was a rare thing to see the slave without his Master. Sam wasn't sure what was going on, but there was a fairly good chance that a punishment of sorts was involved. Kurt never punished him unless it was rightfully deserved, and even then, he never physically harmed Sam.

Did Santana tell the King? Was the King going to kill him for following Kurt's orders? Sam wasn't ready to die. Every intake of breath burned as panic swept through him. What did he do? What could he have possibly done to invoke the wrath of the King? Everything felt miles away. He couldn't feel his mother's arm around his shoulders. He couldn't hear the comforting words that she whispered in his ear. He knew only pain and fear.

Sam was not sure how long the panic consumed him, but after his mother forced a few cups of wine through his system, the fear ebbed away. Exhaustion overtook him as he leaned against his mother. Wine was a staple beverage, but Sam often preferred water. Wine turned his mind fuzzy.

It wasn't long before the King stood. His mother helped him up, but soon departed to take care of the younger children. The King's strong hand rested on Sam's shoulder and the terrified teen looked up at him. "Come along."

Unable to speak, Sam nodded. The King's hand remained on his shoulder as they walked to a new area of the castle. The sound of the door closing sent a shiver down Sam's spine. Using his peripheral vision, he assumed that he found his way into the King's bedchambers. Without a word, he sank to his knees at the feet of the King, showing his submission to the man and awaiting the punishment.

Burt grabbed the boy's chin and forced him to look up. Fear danced across his features as the King shook his head. "Get up, boy…" he sighed. Still drunk off the wine, Sam swayed as he stood. His eyes moved to the bed. He knew what happened in that bed and it made him feel physically ill. The King placed a cup in his hands and Sam drank it without question. Panic and fear left him parched. More liquor. This time, it was much bitterer than the wine at supper.

"Relax," the King sighed, sitting down at a writing desk in the room. "You are not in trouble." Despite the King's kind tone, Sam did not believe him. Why else would he find himself in the King's bedchambers? Sam still refused to speak, knowing that his voice would betray him. "You take good care of my son," Burt stated simply, watching the slave. "You keep him safe and make him happy."

Sam fidgeted. Where was this going? "Now, the way that he uses you is none of my business, but my son tells me everything. Everything." The King knew. The King knew of the shenanigans that the boys partook in. It was an act that disgusted the gods. It was a disgrace. Sam's shoulders tensed as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I do not fault you. I do not blame you. It is your job to obey orders without question. Now tell me, Sam, would you hurt my son?"

"No, Sir," Sam blurted out, looking up at the King. "I only wish to make him happy. I do know that I've caused him discomfort in the past, but I never meant to hurt him, honest. Please don't take me away from him."

The King stood and approached Sam. It was a struggle for the slave not to sink down to his knees again. Two strong hands rested on his shoulders. "Look at me," the King ordered and Sam obeyed. Tears clouded his vision at the mere thought of losing Kurt. "You make my son happy. Why would I ever take that away from him?"

The blond boy shrugged gently. "Come. Sit." Sam had no choice as the King led him to the large feather bed and forced him to sit. "There are two reasons I asked to speak with you. First and foremost, it was to remind you that it is your job to protect my son. With that Smythe boy here, I'm sure that my son will put himself into stupidly dangerous situations. As your King and your Master, I give you permission to stop him from doing anything that might bring him harm. My orders outrank his, and I expect you to protect him. Should any harm come to him, I will send you back to the slave masters without hesitation. Understood?"

Sam nodded. That was the last place that Sam wanted to go. He still had nightmares of the hell that the slave masters put him through as a child. He still harbored the scars and the burns from the physical torment. Still, that order as not too horrible. He could do that. There was still the second reason. Looking up at the King, he couldn't help the smile. The King was grinning at him.

"Now, my son does not lie. Tell me the truth, do you truly have magical hands?"

Confusion passed across Sam's face. What was the King asking of him? Yes, Kurt often joked that Sam's hands possessed some magical ability. Did the King want him to touch him? Kurt would not be pleased with that.

"I have an old injury that is giving me grief. Kurt insisted that you tend to it. While I am not sure what it is that you can do to relieve it, he was adamant." Sam blinked a few times, relaxing. The King wanted a back rub. He was good at that.

"Where, Your Grace?" Sam whispered.

"My left shoulder. I injured it as a child, and now old age seems to have brought it back." The King rolled his shoulders and winced.

Sam stood quietly. "My oils are in Master's room. Should I go get them?" he asked quietly. The King laughed and pointed to the desk. There sat Kurt's healing oils. Hands shaking, he lifted the container and placed it on the table next to the bed. "I uh- Would you- I mean…" Sam fumbled over his words, not sure how he was to ask the King to remove his shirt.

Sensing his tension, the man laughed and carefully removed the clothing from his upper body. Sam looked to the floor not wanting to upset the King by staring. "Would you rest on your front… please?" Sam squeaked. It was so much easier when it was Kurt. Kurt knew what to do. He was comfortable with Kurt. This was awkward.

Thankfully, the King obeyed. Sam stretched his fingers and ran them over the King's naked back, paying special attention to the left shoulder area. He could feel the tension under his fingers. He could feel the pain. "This may hurt a bit, Your Grace," he mumbled. "I promise that it will be worth it in the end."

The King grunted. "Just get to it, boy." Not waiting another moment, Sam poured some of the oil onto the King's back. He began slowly working his fingers across it, attempting to relax the King. He paid no attention to the injured shoulder, not at first. It took a long time for the King to finally relax, and that was when he went to work on the injured shoulder. His touches began gently and soon the King groaned in pain.

"Sorry," Sam apologized quickly, immediately decreasing the pressure.

"Do not apologize," the King snapped. "Do what you must." Sam continued with the healing process. He could feel the heat leaving the affected area. The King would groan and whimper when the slave hit a particularly sensitive spot, but urged Sam to continue. Over an hour passed before Sam stepped away.

"How does that feel, Your Grace?"

The King mumbled something sleepily. Sam didn't understand what he was trying to say. His hands put Kurt to sleep on many occasions. Taking a few steps away from the bed, the King said nothing more. Looking over at the alcohol on the desk, Sam stole a few long swallows before grabbing his oils and leaving the King to rest.

His head remained fuzzy as he made his way back towards Master's chambers. Of course, it didn't take long for the boy to lose his way in the castle. The alcohol went straight to his head and Sam continued walking in circles, attempting to find a hint of familiarity. Everything in the damned castle looked the same. He merely prayed that he avoided the Hand of the King and his daughter. The last thing he needed was another interaction with a member of the Lopez family.

A hand suddenly clapped him on the shoulder, nearly causing Sam to drop his healing oils as he turned around. There stood Sir Sebastian Smythe, staring at him. "Lost, puppy?" he asked with a sly smile. Sam turned to run, but his grip was strong. "No need to run. I can take you back to your Master. Come on." Sebastian was Master's best friend, but that did not mean that Sam had to enjoy his company. Sebastian was a disgusting man and Sam did not trust him at all. For the past few years, Sebastian constantly attempted to get Sam. He begged Kurt for some "alone time" with his slave. Kurt always refused, but that didn't stop Sebastian.

Soon, Sebastian led him into a room. It was not Master's chambers. Unfortunately, Sebastian blocked the only way out. Sam placed the oils on the floor and struggled to get past the knight. Sebastian merely laughed at the attempt. "You are so adorable," he laughed, "Now stop fighting with me. You know that it only makes things worse for you." Sam didn't stop. He wasn't going to allow Sebastian Smythe to hurt him anymore.

It wasn't long before Sam was on the ground, staring up at the knight. "Bad slave," Sebastian taunted. "Remember what Master said, you have to listen to my commands as well." Sam flinched. Those were words said in passing years before. Now, Sebastian used them against him whenever he had the chance.

"Don't touch me," Sam hissed, shoving the foot off of his chest and struggling to stand up.

Sebastian merely laughed and pushed the slave to the bed, bending the upper portion of his body over it. A strong arm kept him pinned to the bed. He kicked out, he lashed out. "Don't touch me!"

"Quiet!" Sebastian commanded. "Or I will put that mouth to better use, understand?" Sam merely whimpered in response. He loathed Sebastian, but he had no power. He was a slave, and Sebastian treated him as such. The free hand moved up to ruffle Sam's hair. "Besides, you know you enjoy our time together," he laughed.

That could not be more distant from the truth. Sam loved being with Master. He loved giving himself completely to the other man. Master was gentle and loving. Sebastian stole Sam away. Sebastian did not care how he made the slave feel, he cared only for his pleasure. He soon felt a breeze as Sebastian pulled his pants down. Sam struggled, causing the pressure to increase on his back.

"This is where you belong, understood?" Sebastian snapped. "You are a slave. Kurt might not treat you that way, but consider this a reminder of what you are." Without any warning or preparation, Sebastian forced one of his long fingers inside of Sam. The blond slave groaned in discomfort and fought to get away.

"Like that, don't you?" Sebastian grinned. "Be a good little slut and keep quiet," he mocked. The finger started moving inside of him and Sam bit back a cry. The man's nails scratched his insides. The pain was intense. Master always used something to make everything go smoother. It didn't hurt when it was Master inside of him.

A second finger soon joined the first and Sam let out a scream into the mattress. Sebastian started moving them in and out and Sam saw stars. His hands clung to the bed linen as he struggled to get away. "Stop… stop please…" he begged quietly. He knew that if Sebastian forced himself on him, he would feel the pain for days. Sebastian was cruel and relentless.

"Are you telling me what to do, slave?" Sebastian laughed, forcing the fingers deeper inside of him. Unable to control his body, Sam jerked and let out a low moan as the fingers brushed past his sensitive spot. Warm feelings shot through him as he sank into the bed. "That's what I thought." A third finger slipped inside and Sam felt himself stretching to accommodate the invasion. The tears fell. It hurt horribly as Sebastian spread his fingers apart. The mattress muffled the cry of pain.

"Don't… please," Sam whispered. "Please, I beg you…"

"No one can stop me, slave. A slave can't be raped, remember? A slave is at the disposal of his Master."

"You are _not_ my Master," Sam groaned as the fingers continued moving inside of him.

"That will change. I might just steal you away in the night. Then you'll be mine to do with as I please." The thought terrified Sam. He was happy with Kurt. Kurt made him feel human. Any other Master would treat him worse than an animal. Many attractive slaves didn't live long. It was a brutal life, one that took lives early. "Doesn't that thought excite you?" Sam's body buckled as the fingers brushed that spot again. Master called it his "Happy Spot," but it didn't make him feel happy anymore.

"Get off me!" Sam whimpered, unable to get his voice to go any louder. Suddenly the fingers were gone. Before he could process what was happening, Sebastian turned him around and forced him onto his knees in front of him. Sam knew what was coming, but at least the man wasn't using his ass. He looked up at Sebastian with tears in his eyes.

"You know what to do, whore. Don't make me force you."

Flinching, Sam slowly untied the pants and lowered them just enough to show Sebastian's manhood. It was repulsive. Closing his eyes, he looked down and shook his head. Sebastian's hand grabbed his hair harshly and pulled it closer to his groin.

"Now, slave," he hissed. "Or I shall tell your precious Master that you attacked me and tried to force yourself on me." No one would believe the word of a slave over that of a knight. Sebastian had the upper hand. Sam knew it. Very slowly, he took Sebastian into his mouth, trying not to gag. If he closed his eyes, perhaps he could imagine it was Kurt.

The illusion didn't last long. Sebastian was commanding and forced Sam's head to move. The grip in his hair was tight as Sam gagged at the intrusion. Sebastian was groaning something as Sam attempted to detach himself from reality. He wanted this to end, but it was not his choice. He was a slave, at the disposal of his Master's friend. His feelings did not matter. Why pay for a whore when there were slaves?

Before long, Sebastian released himself down Sam's throat, causing the boy to gag and force his head away. Sebastian did not let up until he was done. Pulling his manhood out of Sam's mouth, he covered the slave's mouth with his hand. "Swallow," he ordered.

Sam obeyed, feeling as though he should vomit. Sebastian let go of the slave and pushed him to the floor. "Disgusting," he laughed. Sam knew that he looked pathetic on the floor, but breathing was not working well for him. The pain was too much. He curled up on himself, every breath burning.

Grabbing him again, Sebastian lifted him off the ground, pulling his pants up. "Stop crying. You know that you loved every moment of that." Sam didn't respond as Sebastian led him out of the room and through the halls of the castle. The tears stopped as they neared Kurt's bedchambers. Sebastian knocked.

The door opened and Kurt's eyes fell on his clearly upset slave. He pulled Sam into the room, holding him close. Sam refused to say a word, merely enjoyed the safe feeling that only his Master could give him. "Sam, what happened?" Kurt asked gently, taking him over to the soft feather bed and sitting next to him.

Sam merely squeaked. He couldn't tell Master. He told him to obey Sebastian. Sebastian told him not to tell.

"Sammy… you're safe here, remember?" Sam didn't look up at Sebastian, but knew that he remained standing in the doorway.

When Kurt could not get an answer from his slave, he looked up at Sebastian for an explanation. "I found him staggering around the castle. Your father had him upset and drunk and the boy couldn't find his way back to you." Sebastian lied so easily. It was natural for him. Kurt believed him without question. Why would his best friend lie to him?

"Is that true, Sam?" Kurt asked gently, petting the boy's hair. Sam nodded, pulling Kurt closer. Sam was safe when Master was there. Master made sure that he was safe. Sebastian could not hurt him while Master was there.

Kurt let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Sebastian, if you could leave us for the evening, we can catch up tomorrow."

Sebastian bowed and nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace." With that, Sebastian exited the room, the door closing behind him. Sam relaxed in Kurt's arms.

"Do you wish to sleep, Sam?" Kurt asked quietly. "I can change and we can sleep."

Finally, Sam looked up at his Master. "Can I stay with you, Master?" he managed. It was a rare occurrence for Sam to ask to rest in Kurt's bed. Usually he waited for Kurt to ask him. It was clear that something was bothering him, but his slave wouldn't tell him. That upset Kurt. The smaller teen sighed and stood up, walking to his wardrobe and pulling out sleeping clothes. Sam refused to move from the bed, staring at the floor while Kurt changed.

Moments later, Kurt blew out most of the candles in the room, leaving one lit at his bedside. Kurt crawled into bed and got under the quilt. Sam did the same and wrapped his arms around Kurt's abdomen, resting his head on his Master's chest. This was not how they usually slept, but Sam was upset and Kurt was willing to sacrifice a night of being held in order to make his slave feel better.

Kurt blew out the candle by his bedside and ran his fingers through his slave's hair. The room remained illuminated by the waning moon. Kurt was not tired, even though his slave was. Fingers continued to play through Sam's hair, comforting him as he drifted to sleep. Kurt gently sang a lullaby, ushering the boy deeper into sleep. Kurt knew that he wouldn't be able to move much, but that truly did not bother him. Sam's head rested against his chest, his breathing gently moving the fabric of his shirt.

He knew that he was not supposed to care for his slave in this manner, but Sam was more than just his slave. Sam was one of the few reminders of his mother than remained. Sam was there for him when he needed someone to talk to, someone to cry to, someone to yell at. Sam never judged him. Sam never questioned him. The slave was there for him when no one else would listen.

While Kurt knew that the slave was trained to obey his every command and bend over backwards to make his Master happy, it felt as though Sam did it because he wanted to, not because he had to. Sam wanted to see Kurt happy. When Kurt smiled, Sam would smile in return. He would do little things for Kurt without being told. He went out of his way to make sure that the Prince was as happy as he could possibly make him.

Slaves were possessions, items to be used harshly and discarded when they were no longer of use. They didn't deserve happiness, yet Kurt found himself wanting to make his slave happy too. His father warned him about the dangers of falling in love with a slave, but Kurt never took heed of those warnings.

Was he falling in love with Sam? The answer scared him. Sam would do anything for Kurt. If the situation were to ever arise, Sam would die protecting him. There was no doubt of that. Still, Kurt didn't want to think of a life without his slave. They needed each other to survive. Kurt was as dependent on Sam as Sam was on him. Kurt knew he would go to any length to keep his slave alive. Sam was special.

Special. That was the word his mother used. Sam was special. As a child, Kurt never understood what she meant, but now he could see it too. He was not sure what it was that made Sam special, but it was there.

It was unexplainable.

It wasn't a question of if Kurt was falling in love with Sam. It was a question of when.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Here ends chapter 2. I know that a lot of this seems like filler, but I wanted a firm grasp on the universe and the characters within the Kingdom before the exciting stuff started.

That being said… next chapter will include more Sebastian, some more sibling interaction (I believe), some Hevans lovin', and the hunt. (=

Thank you to those of you that read, left a review, favorited or alerted.

Do leave some reviews. I really want to know what you guys think of this. (=


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE: **Paragon of Kings  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of Blaine Anderson and his band of barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Betrayal. Magic. War. Death.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> I don't own Glee or Game of Thrones  
><strong>SHIPS<strong>: Hevans with others to add in. Sebtana.

**WARNINGS: **consensual sex, light bondage

* * *

><p>A knock sounded at the door. It was far too late for visitors, but Santana slowly rose and walked to the door of her bedchambers. "This better be good," she warned the person on the other side of the door. Before she could reach for the handle, the door burst open and Sebastian Smythe strode in, grinning.<p>

Santana rolled her eyes and closed the door behind the knight. "Do you know what time it is?" she hissed. Sebastian merely grinned at the girl, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"And despite the time you still manage to take my breath away," he smiled, kissing her cheek before releasing her.

"What do you want, Sebastian?" she sighed, crossing her arms and staring at the late night visitor.

Gasping rather dramatically, Sebastian lifted his hand to his chest in mock hurt. "After I came all this way to visit you, this is how you treat me?"

Once again, Santana found herself rolling her eyes. "Don't lie, you came here to visit Kurt and use his slave to get off," she shot.

"That's not the only reason," he whispered, once again taking the girl into his arms, this time kissing her gently on the lips. "I've figured out my plan," he grinned, still pinning her body close to his. "Everything is in place, my love. The day after next, I will take the Prince on a hunt."

Santana pulled away. "How do you plan on doing that, oh great knight. Kurt hates the idea of hunting, or sleeping on the ground… or doing anything remotely manly." Sure, Kurt was her husband to be, but that didn't mean that she had to like him or enjoy his company.

"Believe me," he smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I am very good at convincing Kurt to do things. I do believe he might love me more than he loves you." Santana slapped his hand away.

"Do you forget that he loathes my very existence?" Santana laughed bitterly. "This better work, Smythe, or it'll be your head."

"If it doesn't work, it'll be all our heads, my love," Sebastian sighed, sitting down on a chair near her bed. "There's nothing to worry about. They're ready to spring. All I have to do is lead Kurt into their little trap and we'll never have to worry about him again."

Slowly, Santana sat down on Sebastian's lap, resting her head against his shoulder. Sebastian held her close. "And these… acquaintances of yours, they'll take care of everything?"

Sebastian nodded and placed a kiss on her shoulder. "We'll never hear from Kurt Hummel again. Once Kurt is gone, everything will fall into place. With no suitable heir, the throne will pass to your father once the King dies. You will become a princess. Then we'll marry and one day rule the Kingdom together."

Santana nuzzled her head against his shoulder, relaxing gently in his arms. "How can I trust you?" she sighed. "How do you know that everything will work out? What we're doing, it's wrong, Sebastian."

"Oh, Santana. I love you with all of my heart. We both know that the Kingdom would fall with Kurt as a leader. I love him, I truly do, but the Kingdom cannot fall. I will not allow that to happen. The other children have no claim to the throne. They're bastard children with a slave for a mother. Your father will reign over the Kingdom. We'll usher in a new age, a new dynasty. The Hummels have grown complacent. Burt might be the most beloved King in over a century, but there hasn't been war during his reign. He'll turn this Kingdom over to those Eastern bastards without a fight."

Santana fell silent for a few moments, taking in exactly what Sebastian said. Everyone knew the rumors of the rebellion forming in the East. Those that were exiled centuries before wanted to attack the Kingdom and reclaim the throne. Of course, rumors of that nature always made their way through the Kingdom. With leaders like the Hummels, there would be no future for the Kingdom.

Gently, Sebastian rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "It's our job to look out for what is best for the Kingdom. We're doing the right thing." Sebastian was so confident that everything would work out that Santana had a hard time not believing him. Eventually, she nodded and kissed his cheek.

With little effort, Sebastian lifted her and carried her to her bed. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow is the first day of a new world." His fingers stroked through her hair before he left the chambers.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam awoke in a rather awkward position. His back hurt and there was an odd fabric brushing against his cheek. Sitting up, he muffled a groan as he stretched out. He must have fallen asleep next to Kurt the previous evening. It didn't take long for the memories to flood back to him, leaving his arms wrapped around a pillow.<p>

Sebastian was here. Sebastian nearly raped him. No. Sebastian nearly had sex with him. A slave could not be raped. Whether they wanted it or not, they had to follow the commands of those above them. All Sam wanted to do was scrub his skin clean and rest in Kurt's bed all day, but there were chores to be done.

After changing into slightly more presentable clothing, Sam made his way through the castle, a slight limp to his step. Even though Sebastian only used his fingers, the pain and discomfort were still present. Fear filled him. Sebastian could be waiting around any corner, and he was powerless to stop it from happening. Sam knew that he should not feel such fear, but that only made the fear worse.

Thankfully, he made it to the slave quarters without much trouble. As usual, his mother was nowhere to be found. It didn't take long to discover that it was mid-morning and that the Prince went beyond the castle walls with his friend "the knight." A weight lifted off his shoulders once he realized that Sebastian would not be a threat. Still, there was an emptiness inside of him. Why did Master leave him? Usually Sam accompanied Kurt wherever he went. It was an odd sensation.

Two hands grabbed his shoulders as he made his way towards the small kitchen. He jumped and let out a strangled cry. Turning around, a middle-aged woman scrutinized his appearance. "You look like hell, Samuel," she finally stated, lines forming across her forehead.

"I feel like hell, Aunt Kat." Sam didn't know if the woman was of any real relation to him, but she helped him whenever his mother couldn't. She managed to find a special place in Sam's heart. The woman was thin and looked frailer than usual. Her dark brown hair was in its usual braid down her back.

"Well, let me get you something warm to eat, come on." With that, she led Sam into the kitchen, taking notice to his odd walking pattern as she started a fire.

Sam didn't know what to say to her, so he watched as she warmed whatever was in the pot. There was a large part of Sam that wanted to confess everything to her, but that would not be wise. Even Sam was not that stupid.

"Did the Prince hurt you?" she finally asked.

Sam immediately shook his head. "Aunt Kat, he'd never hurt me."

The woman turned around and shot Sam a look that made his stomach clench. "Don't lie to me, Sam. I remember the day after the first time he…" The woman couldn't get the word out, but Sam understood exactly what she meant. "He made you come down here and work when you could barely stand."

"Aunt Kat—" Sam interrupted, but another glare silenced him. There was no correcting the woman once she got an idea into her head. After the first time they had sex, Kurt left Sam with no orders for the day. Too scared to stay in the feather bed, he forced himself downstairs to do something productive. Kurt yelled at him later that evening for it, but he hated having nothing to do. The way that Aunt Kat saw it, Kurt forced Sam to work.

"Don't you go protecting that son of a bitch," she hissed. "He's a spoiled child using you against your will."

Sam didn't have the heart to correct her. Kat would never speak to him again if she knew that Sam enjoyed sharing a bed with his Prince. A warm bowl of soup found its way into Sam's shaking hands. Holding it up to his mouth, he drank some of the broth. It was bland, but it was warm and something to eat.

Relaxing into the chair, he allowed Kat to scrutinize his appearance once more. "Did he rape you, sweetheart?"

Sam sighed. "You can't rape a slave, Aunt Kat."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Sammy. I don't care what those bastards told you, rape is rape.' Sam refused to respond, taking another long drink from the bowl in his hands. He didn't have the energy to fight with her any more.

"Did he?" she pushed. Sam shook his head.

"Then what has you all worked up?"

The quieter Sam got, the more the woman pried for answers. "You can tell me anything, kid. You know that." Sam placed the bowl on the table and Kat took that as a sign to wrap him in a tight hug.

"I'm okay, Aunt Kat. Just tired. Promise," he lied, resting his head against her. She was one of the few people that could calm him down. For four years, she was his only means of comfort. That had to mean something, right?

"Then why don't you rest down here for the day?" she offered.

Sam shook his head. "You know that I don't like staying still," he teased, a soft smile playing across his lips. "Besides, I believe that I'm on babysitting duty." He knew that Kat wouldn't take that away from him. He liked spending time with his younger siblings. They were bright and imaginative and fun. They could make Sam forget about his life for a while, and right now that was exactly what Sam needed.

"Be careful, sweetheart," she sighed, kissing the top of his head. "Trouble's coming. I don't know what, but the birds are flying East. That's a bad sign." Sam nodded. Everything was a bad sign according to Kat. The wind was blowing towards the south east. It was an omen of things to come. Sam believed that it was all silly superstitions, but that was all that a lot of the slaves had. He wouldn't take that from her.

"Now finish your soup and run along. I'm sure that you don't want to keep the children waiting." She ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead one final time before departing.

* * *

><p>The afternoon was full of fun. He led his siblings on adventures to defeat dragons and find unicorns. He took them out to the archery range and kept little Anduin and Gracie busy while Stevie and Stacey worked on their marksmanship. He had to admit that Stacey was rather talented with a bow. The girl would be a force to be reckoned with one day. Spending the day with them made Sam happier than he had felt in a long time. They were so happy and full of life. They knew nothing about how terrible the world was. They were not yet scorned with that heavy burden.<p>

The world was perfect for them. One day, Stevie would be a knight and travel throughout the Kingdom helping those "damsels in distress" that he always spoke of. He was rather popular with the young ladies of the capitol. Stacey would sail West. She was determined that there was more to the world than the Western Kingdom and the great expanse of the East. Nothing would stop her. At age four, Anduin was content to follow Stevie around, practically worshipping the ground that the older boy walked on. As for Gracie, she was rather odd. Unlike the other three children, she had brown hair, much like Kurt. She was still learning to speak, but the girl could run. Yes, the Hummel children were destined for greatness, just like their father.

After delivering the children to the dining room for supper, Sam left and returned to his Master's chambers. There was food waiting for him there (probably courtesy of Aunt Kat), and he was thankful. Kurt had yet to return for the day, but the children managed to help him cover up the loss of his Master for those few hours. They distracted him. Now all he had was an empty room, painted red with the setting sun.

Soon, the sky darkened and Sam lit a few of the candles around the room. Where was Kurt? Worry churned in his stomach. What did Sebastian do to him? Was his Master hurt? Perhaps it would be wise to find him, but where to look? No one called out a search party for him, so he must have been safe.

He was probably having a grand time with Sebastian, not worrying about his cold and lonely slave. Sebastian was a demon, seeming to go out of his way to make Sam miserable. He could still feel the knight's fingers moving against him. Disgust filled him at the mere thought of what happened the previous evening. Sebastian was horrible, and it was the same every time he visited.

When the door opened, Sam immediately jumped out of bed to greet his Master. His heart raced as he found Kurt. He fell to his knees with a thud, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face. "Up," Kurt smiled. Sam stood and felt Kurt's arms wrap around him. In turn, Sam wrapped his arms around his Master.

"I missed you today," Sam smiled, squeezing him tight.

"Not as much as I missed you," Kurt responded, slowly letting go of his slave. Sam stared down at his Master, still grinning. Slowly, Kurt took Sam's face in his hands and pulled it down, gently kissing his slave's lips. The kiss started chaste, but soon tongues tangled and Sam found himself pushed onto his Master's soft feather bed. Without any other warning, Kurt pulled Sam's shirt off.

Kurt made quick work of his own clothing. Sam knew that Kurt must have been extremely horny. His clothes fell on the dirty floor, something that Kurt would never allow under normal circumstances. Kurt silently urged Sam to place himself fully on the bed and get comfortable. It only took a few moments before Kurt attacked his slave again, kissing him deeply as his hands danced across Sam's torso. A shot of panic ran through the slave as he stared getting aroused. He knew that this wasn't Sebastian, this was Kurt. Things were completely different during intimate moments with Kurt. He loved his Master. His Master loved him.

Kurt's lips moved down his jaw. "Tell me the rules," he whispered, his fingers working on the tie of Sam's pants. Rules. There were special rules that needed to be followed during the intimate moments between them.

"Kurt…" Sam whispered, unable to get anything else out as Kurt bit at his earlobe. The first rule was that he had to call his Master by his given name. Sam didn't fully understand why, but he had to obey his Master.

Sam's breathing hitched as Kurt's mouth moved down his neck, eliciting a whimper from the blond slave. "What else?" Kurt whispered. They always went through the rules before having sex. If they didn't, Sam would get hurt somehow. The last thing that Kurt wanted was to hurt his slave or to force him into something that he didn't want. Usually, things heated up after the rules were stated, and Sam was finding it difficult to recite them with Kurt pressed up against his body.

"Don't hold back…" Sam groaned as Kurt's tongue moved along his collar bone. Kurt made it very clear that this was as much about him as it was about his Master. It went against everything that Sam knew about his position. It was his job to make Master Kurt happy. His own feelings didn't matter. Still, it seemed as though Master liked making him happy. Rule two was that Sam was not allowed hold anything back. There would be no punishment for telling Kurt what to do.

"And?" Kurt teased before his mouth moved down and latched on to his right nipple. Sam's back involuntarily arched off of the bed as Kurt's tongue swirled around his nipple, filling his body with amazing sensations. Master knew that Sam's nipples were sensitive and he often tortured them. Sam groaned. Kurt's hands started inching the slave's pants off. Sam couldn't get a word out.

"Sammy…" Kurt teased, licking his way over to his Sam's left nipple.

"Stop… I can say stop…" he managed before heat engulfed his left nipple.

"Do you want me to stop?" the brunette smiled up at his beautiful slave.

Sam groaned and shook his head. "Please… please… don't stop… don't…" he pleaded. Sam wasn't sure what he should be doing at this exact moment. Kurt was doing all the work and keeping him from thinking straight. Lips mashed together again as Sam managed to kick his pants off, leaving Kurt straddling his naked form. While Kurt was smaller than him, the power was his tonight. It was a rare occasion that Sam was allowed control or power. Tonight, he was content having Kurt worship his body, at least that was what it felt like.

Kurt bit down on Sam's lower lip, hands moving south to caress Sam's manhood. Gasping, Sam's hips arched up into Kurt. "Like that?" Kurt teased. Sam could only nod, causing the older teen to laugh. He climbed off of his slave, and Sam knew exactly what was coming. It took effort for Sam to move, Kurt essentially turning his body to mud. He managed to turn over and rest on his stomach.

"Oh Sam," Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "None of that tonight." What was that supposed to mean? Was this some new kind of torture? Get the slave all hot and bothered, then leave him in misery for the rest of the night? Sam turned his head to stare at Kurt, blinking slowly and trying to understand the situation. Kurt's fingers were already slick, glistening in the candle light. Things were not adding up. "Come on, turn around," Kurt coaxed, even helping Sam so that he was once again resting on his back.

There was a part of Sam that knew that the state of his back disgusted his Master. The skin was covered in deep scars and burn marks from the past. It was the one part of his body that Sam could do nothing to fix. The markings were as permanent as the brand on the inside of his right wrist, marking him as property of the Hummel family. Kurt gently placed a pillow under Sam's back, elevating him slightly. "Hands up." Confusion ran through him as Sam put his hands up. Kurt laughed as he took them both and held them above his head, wrapping a soft fabric around them. Before Sam could protest, his hands were bound together and tied to the headboard of the bed.

Panic replaced arousal as his breath caught in his chest. "What… why… I don't…" Kurt put his finger up against Sam's lips, effectively silencing him as he kissed his way down Sam's arm. The slave needed to remind himself that Kurt wouldn't do anything to hurt him, right?

"Just relax, Sam. Trust me?" Of course Sam trusted Kurt. He didn't know any better. While Sam knew that he could say no, his instinct stopped him. Kurt's soft hands made their way across Sam's body. His lips trailed sloppy kisses further and further south. Sam's eyes remained closed as he fought to dispel the panic. He tugged at the restraints, but only managed to make the soft fabric bite deeper into his skin.

"Ready?" Kurt smiled. Sam merely nodded. With his eyes closed he didn't know what to expect. Pain? Torture? He was so exposed and vulnerable. What if Kurt finally caved and Sebastian walked through the door? What if he said stop and Kurt didn't? What if—

Everything swirling around in his mind screeched to a halt as a sudden damp heat made itself known around his dick. He bit back the groan as Kurt went down on him. He must have done something right to warrant this kind of treatment. Eyes opening, he stared at what was happening. Kurt's mouth made quick work of the panic and fear, easily replacing them with arousal. Every now and then, Kurt's eyes would flicker up to stare at Sam, and the eye contact set him ablaze. The slave wanted nothing more than to reach down and touch Kurt, but that wasn't an option.

"Kurt," he groaned as the brunette's tongue moved against his sensitive skin. His hips moved against Kurt, causing a laugh to rumble through his Master. The vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. While his mouth was busy, Kurt's fingers played against his slave's hole, taunting and teasing until a single slicked digit worked through the muscle. Sam's eyes closed as Kurt slowly began stretching him. His touch was gentle and left him craving more. As a second slicked finger moved inside of him, Sam barely suppressed a moan, his eyes closing as the sensations completely overtook him.

It barely hurt. Sure there was the usual discomfort, but between Kurt's mouth and the fingers occasionally pushing against that spot inside of him, Sam could care less. Sam was so close to release, but apparently, Kurt wasn't ready. He pulled his mouth away from Sam's throbbing member, causing the slave to whimper pathetically.

"Do you want me to stop, Sam?" Kurt taunted, his voice low as he slid a third finger inside of the slave. Sam tried his hardest to respond, but Kurt's fingers were massaging his pleasure spot, causing the boy to writhe on the bed. He felt full and knew that the best was yet to come. Kurt had a way of making him feel so special. He felt loved and wanted on nights like these. He felt human. It didn't matter that he was a slave. Kurt didn't see it that way, and at the moment, neither did Sam.

The stretching continued until Kurt was satisfied, leaving Sam sweaty and tense on the bed. Kurt got up once more and a whine followed. "Don't… please…" Sam pleaded, wishing that he could just reach down at take care of his throbbing problem himself. So this was the game that Kurt wanted to play tonight. "I need you… Ma—" Sam barely managed to catch himself.

"What was that?" Kurt asked, looking over at his slave on the bed.

"I'm sorry… Kurt please…" Sam hated begging, but this was what Kurt could reduce him to. He struggled against the fabric binding him to the bed and shot a pathetic look over at Kurt.

"For that, I should just leave you there like that all night," Kurt taunted, walking back over to the bed. Sam chanced a look down at his erection and knew that Kurt wouldn't be able to hold out. Slicked fingers trailed down Sam's torso, tracing the lines of his abs. "You broke one of the rules…" The fingers tickled and Sam couldn't stop them.

"Please," he pleaded, trying to move his body so that Kurt's hand would move lower. "Kurt I need you… I need you please…" He closed his eyes and drew a few shaky breaths. It wasn't fair that one person could have this much power and control over him. It wasn't fair that this one person held his fate in his hands.

"What could you possibly need from me?" Sam knew that Kurt was messing with him, but the game wasn't funny. He needed Kurt inside of him. He needed the relief that only Kurt could give him. Fingers traced up Sam's torso again, taking his left nipple and rolling it mercilessly.

What little restraint Sam had kept the scream inside. His back arched as Kurt played with him, teasing and taunting with his touches and words. "Ask and ye shall receive," he whispered in Sam's ear as he pinched the nipple harshly. The pain went straight to his already throbbing groin.

"Please…" he exhaled. "Fuck me…"

"What was that?" Kurt laughed, getting up on the bed. "I couldn't quite hear that." Right now, Kurt was going for the embarrassment factor. While nothing would leave this room, he knew that Sam hated the fact that Kurt could turn him into a begging whore.

Throwing his head back as Kurt placed himself between the slave's legs, Sam cried out as the three fingers found their way inside of him, pounding in and out quickly. "Is that what you want? My fingers?" All that Sam wanted to do was grab Kurt and push the boy into him, but he couldn't. Damn this game.

Sam writhed and moaned as he shook his head. "You… need you… me…" He was past the point of making coherent sense, and Kurt knew that he couldn't taunt the boy much longer. The fingers pulled out and Sam groaned. Thankfully, it wasn't long before Kurt started pushing his way in. His movement was slow and deliberate, allowing Sam to adjust. If anything, he moved too slow for Sam. The blond tried to push himself down, but Kurt was having none of it.

Kurt smiled at his slave as he worked the length inside of him. Soon, Kurt was completely inside of Sam and the blond whimpered. Kurt repositioned Sam gently to make things more comfortable before sliding out. This was the part that Kurt loved the most. He started slowly, thrusting in and out. Sam's body responded in amazing ways. The noises coming out of his slave were beautiful. Everything about Sam was perfect. Hot skin pressed against hot skin as they danced. Kurt watched his slave, a free hand moving some of the hair out of his face. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. Every minute that Kurt spent inside of Sam was like heaven. The tightness surrounding him left his head spinning.

"You're perfect," he whispered. Sam groaned, struggling with every breath that he took. There was no way for him to articulate anything. "I'm so glad that you're mine," Kurt groaned, picking up his pace.

Sam came without warning, grunting and groaning as he did so. Everything was quiet, every moan hushed. They had to be quiet, lest someone find out about their relationship.

Sam completely relaxed on the feather bed, eyes opening as he stared at Kurt, who continued thrusting in and out of him. His senses were overwhelmed. Before long, Kurt released inside of Sam before collapsing on top of him. The slave wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Kurt and hold him close, but those damn ties prevented him from doing that.

Slowly, Kurt pulled out, leaving Sam feeling empty but relaxed. After a few moments filled with labored breaths, Kurt finally spoke. "We made a mess," he laughed breathlessly. Sam nodded quietly. Usually it was his responsibility to clean the mess, but he couldn't move. He probably couldn't move even if he wasn't tied to the bed. Kurt's face nuzzled against Sam's broad chest, making small content noises. Sam knew there would be no second round tonight, his prince was exhausted.

After a few more moments, Kurt forced himself out of the bed. "Kurt, I'm cold," Sam managed to whine. He was fighting for oxygen, but the burn in his chest was a pleasant reminder of the night's events. Even in the dim lighting, Sam stared at his Master's naked body. Kurt was like a fine piece of art. Beautiful and perfect in every way.

Laughing, Prince Kurt turned around with a washcloth and returned to Sam's side, gently wiping the semen off of his slave's chest. They needn't say anything, to wrapped up in each other to speak. Kurt cleaned the slave first, then turned on himself. Soon, Kurt crawled back into the bed, gently untying Sam.

The first thing Sam did with his freedom was pull Kurt close and kiss him. It felt like the right thing to do, and his Master seemed to agree. Unfortunately, Sam couldn't last long, his lungs needing oxygen. The kiss broke and Kurt settled down next to Sam. Together, they pulled the covers over top of them. Once again, Kurt repositioned himself so that his arm was across Sam's torso, his head resting gently against Sam's chest. With his newfound freedom, Sam wrapped an arm around Kurt, holding him close.

With the final candle extinguished, Sam kissed the top of Kurt's head. Kurt was too busy listening to Sam's heart to properly respond. Sam had a strange heart, that was for sure. Unlike his, it didn't beat steadily. There was no steady drumming against his ear. Instead, it was something unusual and beautiful; special, just like Sam. There was an unevenness to it, a hesitation at moments. It comforted Kurt. As the pair came down out of their post-orgasmic haze, Kurt whispered nonsensical words against his slave's bare chest.

Sleep overtook him, but he swore he heard Sam speak right before he drifted off.

"I love you, Kurt."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Okay, so I originally planned on more things happening in this chapter. Then I wrote 2500 words of Hevans smut, and it didn't happen. I didn't want to make the chapters too long. Also, I apologize for the lack of quality, I'm not usually one to write smut. Sorry.

So the next chapter will (hopefully) mark the beginning of hardcore plottage.

Please leave a review. It only takes a few seconds and I'd love to hear some feedback.

Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**TITLE**: Paragon of Kings  
><strong>SUMMARY<strong>: AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of Blaine Anderson and his band of barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Betrayal. Magic. War. Death.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER<strong>: I don't own Glee or Game of Thrones  
><strong>SHIPS<strong>: Hevans with others to add in. Sebtana.

**WARNINGS**: none

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam woke up to find his body tangled with Kurt's. The sun was already up and the birds sang their morning tune. He knew that there was plenty to do today, but Samuel found himself watching Kurt in silence. The light from the window danced across his perfect porcelain skin. The Prince slept with a slight smile on his face, and Sam couldn't help but smile in return. After last night's events, he did feel a bit sore, but happy nevertheless. He liked having sex with Kurt.<p>

No. He loved having sex with Kurt. Just the memories of the previous night turned his limbs into jelly as he gently kissed Kurt's forehead. "Time to wake up, Your Grace," he whispered, pushing some hair out of Kurt's eyes. The prince grumbled and cuddled closer to his naked slave, causing Sam to blush slightly. He shook the prince again. "Kurt… come on," he whispered. Sam knew that if he got out of bed, his master would follow him, but he didn't want to get out of bed yet.

Peppering kisses along Kurt's neck, Sam finally managed to get up and get out of the bed. He heard Kurt groan in protest and pull the warm covers up over his head. "We're going to miss breakfast if you don't hurry yourself," Sam sighed, slipping on his worn clothing before moving back over to the bed. "I'll pick you up if you don't wake up."

Kurt peeked his head out from under the covers, his hair a complete mess. Sam smiled genuinely at the tired boy and ruffled his hair further, causing Kurt to whine in protest. "I wanna sleep," he grumbled.

"Well isn't that too bad?" Sam shot back playfully. "We have a busy day today, and we've already slept in."

Grumbling, Kurt made his way out of the bed. Sam turned around so as to not look at his master's naked form. It was one thing when they were melded together in bed. This was a completely different situation, and Sam knew his place. "Help me get dressed, slave," he grumbled. Sam turned around and immediately helped Kurt put on his fine silken wardrobe. Kurt truly was the best dressed man in all the land. While Sam personally thought that Kurt looked best with nothing on at all, he had to admit that the man did have some kind of taste in clothing.

* * *

><p>The morning went by quickly. After a late breakfast in the dining hall, Sam accompanied his master to the practice room where the two sparred for the better part of two hours, leaving Sam completely spent and exhausted. He struggled to breathe (as always), but he could not say no to his master. Kurt needed the practice and Sam was more than willing to help him with that. Without the supervision of the swordsmaster, Sam had no issues defeating Prince Kurt at his own game.<p>

Thankfully, the two could laugh about it in the end.

By the time afternoon came, Sam began dreading the evening. He knew that Kurt was departing with Sebastian for a hunt, and there was a good chance that he would not be invited. Spending time away from Kurt made his heart ache. He worried about his best friend. He worried about his master, especially where Sebastian Smythe was involved.

"Gold piece for your thoughts?" Kurt's voice echoed through Sam's head, knocking him out of his thoughts. He turned to smile at his master as his head gently shook.

"There's nothing in my thoughts of interest," he laughed, trying to play it off, but he knew that Kurt would see right through it. Kurt had this uncanny ability of reading people, and he read Sam the best. Perhaps it was because they spent so much time together growing up, or merely that they spent nearly every waking moment together.

"Don't lie to me, Samuel," Kurt sighed, nudging the blond slave with his elbow. "You know I don't like it when you lie."

Taking a deep breath, Sam poured his heart out to Kurt. He knew better than to keep up the farce. "I don't want you to leave tonight," he whispered. "I just have an enormously bad feeling about this whole hunt thing…" he admitted.

Kurt merely laughed at his slave. "Don't worry so much, Sam. It's just for the night and we'll be back in the morning. You can survive one night without me, you've done it before."

The prince's tone made Sam flinch. Once again, Kurt was writing off his worries as those of an attached slave. That wasn't it at all, but who was he to question royalty? The blond looked down at the floor and kicked his right foot, disturbing the dirt. Pain emanated from his lower lip as a result of his teeth sinking down into it. Now he felt stupid and silly for voicing his concerns, but something still didn't sit right with him. He started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as things fell awkwardly silent between the two young men.

Arms suddenly wrapped around Sam as Kurt pulled him into a tight hug. "It's going to be okay, Sam. And when I get back, we can have that day of rest like I promised you. A day spent in bed, just the two of us." All the blond could do was nod in response as he held Kurt close. Kurt's words did nothing to dispel the paranoia and fear that pressurized his chest.

Something bad was going to happen, Sam Evans just knew it.

* * *

><p>After saying his goodbyes to Kurt, Sam made his way back to the castle, feeling dejected and unwanted. It was only one night. He could deal with one night. Right? But what if it wasn't just one night? What if it was more than that? What if something bad happened and he never saw Kurt again? Sam knew that he had a itching for paranoia, but this was more than the usual anxiety. This was full blown panic at the idea that something bad was going to happen to Kurt.<p>

The poor slave had to sit down on the steps to catch his breath. Nothing he did aided him in calming himself down. He wanted to go to the King and convince the man to keep Kurt in the castle, inside the city limits. He knew that was not going to work, but it seemed like a good idea in his head. Kurt always listened to his father, and if only he could convince Burt that this was a bad idea, then things would be better. Then things would make sense again, and he wouldn't have to worry about anything bad happening to his beloved master.

Struggling to catch his breath, Sam heard words coming from a nearby door that was partially open. He quieted his breathing and tried his hardest to eavesdrop, knowing that it could get him into quite a bit of trouble if it was the wrong conversation. At this point, it didn't matter to Sam. It sounded like Sir Smythe, and if it had anything to do with the hunt, then maybe it could save Kurt's life.

"Don't worry…" he heard Sebastian say. He didn't know who the man was talking to, but it sounded like he hit upon the right conversation to eavesdrop on. "Everything will go off without a hitch, my love. He'll get lost in the woods and tomorrow morning I'll find his sword and cape."

Sam had to hold in the squeak that wanted to come out. He was right. Something bad was going to happen to Kurt. He had to go and warn the boy. He had to stop Kurt from going on this hunt with Sebastian. It was the only way that he was going to save his master. Standing up, he started down the steps towards the stables where Kurt was preparing his horse. Unfortunately, he missed a step and went flying down the steps quite loudly. He fell in a crumpled heap half way down the steps.

Just when he thought that things couldn't get worse, the door to Sebastian's room opened and out walked the snake himself. "Well what do we have here?" he asked with a sneer, kneeling down and grabbing the collar of the salve's shirt. "We have an eavesdropper, don't we?"

Sam's eyes grew wide as he shook his head. "No, sir…" he whimpered. "I was going to say goodbye to Master and I fell… honest, sir." He could tell by the look in Sebastian's eyes that the knight didn't believe a word that he was saying. Between his breathing issues and the fear radiating through him, Sam was paralyzed on the floor. Even when Sebastian hoisted him up, he didn't dare to move.

"I think you're lying to me, slave," he sneered, getting right up into Sam's face.

The blond continued shaking his head. "Why would I lie to you, sir? Honest?" His voice shook as Sebastian grabbed him and pulled him into the nearest room, flinging him down into a chair.

"Well if that's the case, then you wouldn't mind just sitting here until we leave, now would you?" he grinned. He knew that Sam knew what the plan was. Sebastian also knew that Sam would do anything in his power to save his Master, and he couldn't have that happening. That would lead to disaster and Sebastian's plan would fall apart at the seams.

"Lemme say goodbye, please?" Sam whispered, staring up at Sebastian. If it wasn't for his breathing issues he could have easily taken Sebastian down, but right now he was struggling just to keep himself conscious. The oxygen wasn't flowing properly into his lungs and his head grew light.

Sebastian walked closer to Sam and ran a finger down the slave's cheek. "No…" he whispered in Sam's ear before pain shot through Sam's head and the slave knew no more.

* * *

><p>Grinning, Sebastian made his way back down to stables where he was to meet Kurt. He was wearing his armor and displaying his family crest proudly on his chest. "Ready to go?" he asked Kurt with a smile, clapping his friend on the back.<p>

Nodding, Kurt hopped up on his horse, sword attached to his hip. "Let's hope that we return with something for our troubles," he smiled, kicking his horse gently to get her moving. Kurt was never very fond of going on hunts, but he would do anything if Sebastian asked him to. That was how their friendship worked. Kurt would do anything for Sebastian, and in turn, Sebastian would do anything for Kurt. It was a friendship of the best kind, so Kurt thought.

If only the poor prince knew what was awaiting him in the woods. If only he would have listened to his slave and postponed the hunting trip with Sebastian. It was too late now though, and as the pair rode off into the woods, the blond slave remained unconscious in a storage room in the castle, unable to help at all.

* * *

><p>Night fell quickly. After an entire afternoon of riding, they were a decent hike away from the castle and away from anyone that could possibly help Kurt. As the dark fell, Kurt turned behind him to speak with Sebastian about finding a place to camp, only to discover that Sebastian was nowhere to be found. Panic swept through the prince. His father told him to take his entourage with, but that would only scare away any game they could find. Sebastian insisted it just be the two of them. He trusted Sebastian enough, and now it seemed as if his protection was gone.<p>

"Sebastian!" he called out into the darkness of the woods. Kurt didn't even know how to start a fire on his own, and it was already growing chilly. "Sebastian!" he called out again. His horse neighed and Kurt did his best to comfort the creature as the forest came alive with sounds. The wind rushed through the limbs overhead, sending Kurt into a panic that there was someone around.

"SEBASTIAN!" he called out, fear lacing his voice. He was wasting time. It was too dark. He couldn't even light a fire to see better. As the fear settled inside of him, Kurt hopped off of his horse and tied the creature to a tree. He could do this. His father always taught him that when he was lost, to stay in one place and allow help to come find him. If both parties were moving, it was infinitely more difficult to reunite.

Closing his eyes, the skinny brunet wrapped his blanket around him as he leaned up against the tree. He was in for a long night. He called out his best friend's name one more time before he heard a rustling nearby. Hand on his sword, Kurt's entire body tensed. It was probably just a rabbit or something. Quiet filled the air and the boy relaxed slightly.

Unfortunately, that was the moment his assailants were waiting for. A hand clamped down over the prince's mouth and a sword made its presence known against his throat. The prince swallowed harshly and looked around in the dark. He couldn't make sense out of anything.

"Stand," a harsh voice commanded. The boy shook as he stood up, the blade still present against his throat. "Look what we found here, boys…" the voice laughed. Suddenly, fire appeared from behind him and illuminated his face. The flame only emphasized the fear across his features. Kurt was surrounded by a bunch of men. "If it isn't Prince Hummel himself," he grinned, pressing the blade up against Kurt's throat, close enough to draw a sliver of blood from the royal.

Oh Gods.

Oh Gods.

This was how Kurt Hummel was going to die: alone in the forest at the mercy of a half-dozen men. He should have listened to his slave. He should have brought Sam along. This was bad. This was terrible.

He wasn't ready to die.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Sorry for the delay and sorry that it's so short. I'm trying to get back into writing this. I had chapter 4 almost done, then my computer crashed so I had to write it all from scratch again. It's never as good the second time around. I know this is just filler, but there will be more in the next chapter.

Please take a few seconds to leave some love.

Hope to talk to you soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**TITLE**: Paragon of Kings  
><strong>SUMMARY<strong>: AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of Blaine Anderson and his band of barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Betrayal. Magic. War. Death.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER<strong>: I don't own Glee or Game of Thrones  
><strong>SHIPS<strong>: Hevans with others to add in. Sebtana.

**WARNINGS**: none

* * *

><p>Hooves pounded against the rough terrain as the rider pushed the horse even further. The rider was dizzy and out of breath, but that didn't stop him from pushing the horse to go as fast as the creature could. It was dark, and he kept running into tree branches that he not so narrowly missed. He knew that he was going to have scrapes and cuts all over his body, but it would be worth it. He had to get there.<p>

Hell, he didn't even know where there was. He just knew that if he kept riding that fate would lead him to his destination. There wasn't much time, and fear struck a chord within him every time the horse jumped over something. The rider was inexperienced and holding on for dear life, but horseback was the fastest way to get anywhere in this terrain. He had no other choice.

He was used to having no other choice.

He rode for himself.

He rode for everything he held dear.

He rode for his kingdom.

He rode for his prince.

"SEBASTIAN!" He heard the shout call out into the night and he knew that he was close. He slowed the horse down to wait for another vocal cue. His head was spinning, but he had to push through it. It was his duty to protect the prince, and right now he was failing at it.

The call came again and the rider pushed forwards.

* * *

><p>Kurt looked around at all the masked faces glaring at him. At least, he thought that they were glaring at him. It was hard to see in the dim lighting. His heart raced as he held his wrists out to allow them to bind him. Right now he wanted to live, and with a sword at his throat, this was the only way he would live. He was not trained enough to get out of this kind of situation.<p>

Swallowing again, the man in front of him tightened the ropes causing Kurt to seethe in pain. His poor skin. His poor body. His poor everything. This was going to end in ransom, and his father would never forgive him. As far as he knew there was still slight hope. If the council agreed to pay the ransom, he'd be sent home free in no time. Then again, if the council refused, he'd be executed or worse.

Out of nowhere, he heard a weak cry as one of the men towards the back of the grouping was caught off guard by a sword. Thank the gods, Sebastian came to rescue him. Closing his eyes, he felt the blade dig deeper into his neck. "Sebastian!" he croaked out, still unable to see his savior. Sebastian was never going to let him live this down.

"Sebastian isn't here, _Prince Hummel_," a voice mocked in his ear. "In fact, you could say that Sebastian Smythe is the reason we ran into each other." The words sent a shiver through him, but the true meaning of them didn't sink in. The man continued to pull him away as the remaining masked assailants turned on Kurt's only savior.

A flash of dirty blonde hair caught the light and Kurt's eyes went wide. "Sammy… no…" he whispered, his voice refusing to get any louder. They were going to kill him. Sam didn't have the lung capacity to fight off multiple assailants. He could barely get through one without having to stop to catch his breath.

Nevertheless, Samuel Evans continued to fight until he couldn't fight any more. He managed to injure three of the assailants before a punch to the solar plexus sent him reeling to the ground. Soon, the attention turned on the blond slave, the one that managed to fight them off with no armor and little more than a sharpened practice sword.

"Sam!" Kurt called out, earning himself a hit to the gut. Soon Kurt was on his knees in the clearing right next to his beloved slave. "Sam, what… what were you thinking?"

Sam couldn't respond as he struggled with every intake of breath. His lungs were on fire and every inhale felt as if he was breathing in liquid fire. His lungs were heavy, his airways blocked. One of the masked men grabbed Sam by the hair and lifted him up into a kneeling position. The blond's eyes were closed as he wheezed in and out. "You let yourself almost get beat by this?" the gruff man in charge asked? "You're pathetic, the lot of you. He's not even a real knight." The man grabbed Sam's wrist and held it by the fire so everyone could see the brand marking him as a slave to the Hummel family.

"You were bested by a pathetic salve with a breathing problem."

There was a grumbling in the group as Kurt watched on with horror. The pessimist in him knew that he was soon going to witness the execution of the one thing that mattered more to him than anything else in the world. Tears pricked at his eyes as he watched as the men berated Sam further.

"Assignment was for Hummel only. There's no reason to keep a slave," the man grumbled. Kurt's heart clenched in his chest as he shook his head.

"No! No!" he pleaded. "Please don't kill him!" Begging was not something that Kurt Hummel had to do often, but when it came to saving his lover's life, he would do just about anything.

A laugh echoed through the small group. "Aw, is the wittle prince in wuv with the slave?" one of them asked, pinching at Kurt's cheek. Kurt turned a bright red color as Sam whimpered something unintelligible. He was down for the count and Kurt knew it. The poor boy couldn't even fight back to save his own life.

Suddenly, a female voice joined the fray. A female? It caught Kurt completely off guard. The lithe assailant walked over to Sam and ran a gentle finger down the side of his face, lifting his chin up to get a good look at the struggling slave. "What's your name boy?" she asked directly, staring Sam in the eye.

It took a long time for Sam to answer. His words came out as wheezes, there was no diction to his words. He was exhausted and spent and to be honest, death would be welcomed at this point. He failed his Master. He failed to rescue and save him. It would be his head when he got home anyways, so why not go with what little honor he had left. "Ev-ns… 'am…" he managed.

"Well, Sam Evans, consider this your lucky day," she grinned. "By direct order of the Princess of Aleryia, I spare thee." The words cut right through Kurt. They weren't going to kill his Sammy. Sam was going to survive this. It made his heart jump despite the horrible situation they were in.

"Princess of Aleryia?" the man snapped. "What gives you the right to speak on behalf of the Princess?" he snapped. It was bad enough that there was a woman on the trip, but to have one directly disobey him was another thing entirely. It was not her place to do such a thing.

The woman pulled down her hood and removed her mask to reveal short blond hair and bright blue eyes. The face of an angel. Gasping, the remaining men took a knee, even the one holding Kurt. "Your Grace," they all mumbled with ashen faces.

Sam just stared up at her as he fell forward at her feet. He couldn't stay upright anymore. He grabbed at the grass under his hands with every pained inhale. "That's right. Now bind him like Hummel and let's start our journey home."

"Yes, Princess Quinn," they all mumbled. Sam didn't protest as the men bound him. He didn't make a sound as he was harshly lifted up onto one of their horses and a bag slipped over his head. If anything, the coarse bag helped him regain control of his breathing. Before he knew what hit him, they were riding away. This time they weren't hitting any trees, and the pace was much slower than the breakneck speed he went at before.

The gentle galloping of the horse soothed him and he soon found himself unconscious against the back of the rider that carried him.

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><p>Unfortunately, Kurt remained conscious for most of the ride through the woods. The bag over his head made him feel claustrophobic, and he could only imagine what it was doing to his hair. Thankfully, the cut on his neck closed up (not that it was that deep in the first place), and the man carrying him on horseback was a man of few words. Kurt tried to strike up conversation, but that only led to the man ripping off the bag, shoving a wad of fabric in his mouth, and replacing the bag.<p>

Kurt was effectively silenced and thinking what he did to deserve this. He was beloved in his kingdom. He treated his slaves kindly and never did anything to offend anyone. He was a good Prince. Was that why they were taking him? A beloved prince could fetch a high amount of ransom. Why then take Sam as well? Why spare the slave's life and carry him along as an extra piece of baggage? He was sure that having an additional person along was slowing them down, especially one Sam's size.

The rode through the night and well into morning before they stopped. They were still in a heavily wooded area, at least that was what Kurt assumed when they rested him against a tree. His entire body hurt from the long ride. He wasn't used to such harsh treatment. The rope around his wrists was beginning to rub raw. What kind of cruel torture was this? He did nothing to these people to garner this kind of treatment.

All he knew was that he was captured by Aleryians, which spelled out nothing but horrible things for the boy. Aleryia was the great city of the East, the one true enemy of Western Kingdom. Ancient tales told of a time when the Aleryians were allies with those in the west. A time of great kings and creatures long before this century. If the boy remembered correctly, there was a small dispute over something rather trivial that led to a great war between the Western Kingdom and the future Aleryians. It was a political battle to start that turned into a physical altercation between the citizens. The Evans clan fought with all their heart, believing that their rebellion would make things better.

Brothers fought brothers. Brothers killed brothers. The Western Kingdom won out and all those loyal to the rebellion were exiled. Those that didn't leave fast enough were marked as slaves. Kurt was sure that there was more to the story than that, but that was all that his brain was recalling at the moment as fear and panic swept over him. He tried to call out to his slave, but no words came out of his dry mouth. The large wad of fabric tasted horrible in his mouth and effectively silenced him. No matter how hard Kurt tried to spit it out, it remained in place.

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><p>Meanwhile, on the other side of their small camp, Sam rested against a tree. It no longer burned to breathe. While his body ached from the physical exertion and the long ride on horseback, Sam didn't complain. His main goal was to find a way out of this situation and get Kurt home. In his one track mind, he didn't hear the Princess approaching. He didn't know that she was even there until she removed his hood. Blinded by the sudden light, Sam squinted up at the woman. She truly did look like an angel. She had those soft features that were often attributed to angels. Her eyes were like heaven and her voice was melodic.<p>

"How are you faring, Mr. Evans?" she asked, wiping a damn piece of fabric over his face gently as she knelt by his side.

Sam attempted to answer, but his throat was so dry that all that came out was a cracking noise.

Giggling, the woman grabbed a cup and filled it in the nearby stream before holding it up to Sam's lips. "Drink," she whispered. Sam didn't need telling twice as he downed the cup. The woman refilled it two more times before Sam had his fill.

"Thank you, Mistress," he whispered, not making eye contact. This woman spared his life. This woman was, for all intents and purposes, his new Mistress.

Shaking her head, Quinn pushed some wayward hair out of his face. "You can call me Princess or Quinn, none of that Mistress nonsense. Aleryia is a slave-free city. I expect you to understand the gravity of that statement."

Sam stared at her dumbly. He truly didn't understand what she was trying to say. Aleryia was a slave-free city. All slaves knew that. But that did not matter to him. He was going to rescue his Master and get them home safely. They weren't going to make it to Aleryia. Not if Sam Evans had anything to do with it.

Sighing, Quinn continued toying with his hair. "You showed extreme bravery and loyalty for your Master," she stated simply. "Those are two qualities that I respect in a man. Now, you have one of two potions. Either you can agree to join our caravan to Aleryia and serve in my entourage, or you can remain bound as a slave and treated the same way as your rather pathetic Prince."

Gasping, Sam immediately started shaking his head. "Don't separate us, please," he begged. Sam only knew the life of a slave, and his freedom wouldn't do Kurt any good. Kurt would still be a prisoner and chances were he would never again get the chance to lay with him, or hold him close, or do any of the things that he loved to do with his Master.

"You only get this one opportunity, Sam. Choose wisely."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Yay for fast updates. I had muse so I wrote. Thank you to the new readers and subscribers and what not and a super special thank you to my reviewers. This chapter is dedicated to you guys.

Hope you enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

**TITLE:** Paragon of Kings

**SUMMARY: **AU. Sam is the loyal slave of Prince Kurt Hummel, heir to the Western Kingdom. Soon, they find themselves at the mercy of Blaine Anderson and his band of barbarians east of the Great Divide. Kidnapping. Murder. Betrayal. Magic. War. Death.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Glee of Game of Thrones.

**SHIPS: **Hevans with others to add in.

**WARNINGS:** None.

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><p>The hood remained firmly in place over his head as the caravan continued. He hadn't seen his beloved in days. They kept him in the dark, rarely taking the hood off of his head. The Prince's body ached in ways he never thought possible. As they stopped their trek in the heat of the afternoon, Kurt was taken off the horse and unceremoniously dropped to the ground, his hands still bound, the hood still over his head. Where was Sam? Was he even still alive? He figured that he would have known if something terrible happened, right?<p>

A thud sounded next to him and Kurt did his best to roll away from whatever was going on to his right.

"Master," Sam whispered.

Kurt's heart soared as he heard Sam's voice ring in his ears. Maybe he was hearing things; maybe his love wasn't right next to him. Suddenly, the hood was removed and Kurt was blinded by the bright light. After a moment or two of adjustment, the Prince's eyes finally managed to focus on Sam's face. The slave looked tired and worn, his wrists raw from the rope binding them.

"Oh, Sammy," he whispered, reaching out and running a hand down Sam's cheek. Tears spilled from the slave's eyes as he rubbed the side of his face against Kurt's bound hands. "No no, none of that," Kurt sighed, trying to wipe his tears away. "We're stronger than this, okay?" With those words, Sam moved to rest on the ground, Kurt immediately moving so he was next to his slave. Sam moved so his head was resting on Kurt's not-so-clean shirt. To be honest, Kurt wanted to break down as well (and he had in the past), but now that Sam was with him, he had to be strong.

"Sorry, Master," he whispered, wishing he could wrap his arms around Kurt and leech all the comfort he could out of his Prince. Kurt had a way of making him feel better just by being there. That was why when given the option of his freedom or remaining by Kurt's side, he chose to stay with Kurt. Even though he hadn't interacted with his Prince in days, he wasn't going to betray him.

Every night, Princess Quinn gave him the same option, he could have his Prince or his freedom. Every night, Sam gave the same response. It never occurred to him that with his freedom, he would have a better chance of escaping with Kurt. His blind loyalty to him was overpowering. While most slaves dreamed of freedom, Sam only dreamed of Kurt.

"Hey," Kurt whispered. "We're going to get out of this. These Aleryians, they're pathetic. They'll have to slip up at some point." The Master placed a gentle kiss on the top of Sam's head, longing to hold his slave.

The pair rested in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the company of the other. Neither was sure why they granted them this moment of closeness, but it was welcomed. Finally, Kurt broke the silence. "I love you, Sammy," he whispered, causing Sam's heart to skip a beat.

Sam slowly sat up and stared at Kurt, his mouth opening and closing a few times as words failed to form. Kurt sat up as well and reached out to touch Sam's shoulder. Unfortunately, two men quickly hoisted Kurt off the ground and placed the hood over his head again. "SAM!" he shouted, but Sam was still in shock from the words his Master just uttered. "SAM!"

Annoyed, one of the men slapped Kurt harshly across the face, causing Sam to snap out of his shock and lunge to attack the man. "Don't touch him like that," he hissed. Before he could do any damage, another man easily grabbed the slave and held him back as the first knight approached Sam, his finger tracing down along his jawline.

"Listen, and listen good," he whispered tauntingly in Sam's ear. "I don't know why the Princess has such a soft spot for you, but you can't save him. Do not entwine your fate with a sinking ship. Save yourself before you damn yourself." Unable to do much more, Sam headbutted the man. That only upset him further and Sam received a punch to the gut, causing him to fall to his knees as it knocked the wind out of him.

Suddenly, the Princess was next to him, her sword out at the knight's throat. "What did I tell you about hurting the slave?" she whispered in his ear. "He is the precious cargo and you're to guard him, not harm him." The Princess pulled away and knelt on the ground next to her captive. Sam continued to gasp for air, having completely missed the conversation between the two of them. She ran her hand through his hair to calm him. "It's going to be okay, Sam," she cooed. "We're past the Great Divide. Soon, we will be at the outpost and we can get those pesky ropes off."

It took Sam the better part of two minutes to regain functional breathing and another minute before he could properly stand. The Princess helped him onto the horse and soon they were off again. Every few moments, he would glance back at the hooded form of Kurt, his words still swirling in his head.

* * *

><p>Before night fell, they arrived at a small town, if one could even call it that. Before helping him off the horse, the Princess took out her dagger and cut the ropes from Sam's wrists. The slave wanted to make a run for Kurt, but in his exhausted daze, he missed where they took him. "Let's get you something real to eat," she smiled, taking Sam by the hand and leading him into a small home.<p>

"Where's Master?" he asked immediately, his throat dry from thirst.

One of the women in the home offered him some wine, and Sam drank rather quickly, trying to quench his thirst. Quinn sat next to him and sighed. "He's our prisoner, sweetheart. He'll be treated as such until the King decides his fate."

After he finished his second cup of wine, Sam looked at her with big eyes. "He hasn't done nothing wrong," he stated boldly. This might be the Princess of Aleryia, but she was not his Princess. "He's a good Prince and a good Master and you shouldn't have taken him!"

Quinn sighed and filled his cup again. "I know that you're attached to him, but once we arrive in Aleryia, he will be tried for crimes against the crown."

That confused Sam as his gaze turned into a glare. "He didn't do anything against your stupid crown," he growled. "He was just minding his own business when you attacked him and kidnapped him!"

"Sit down, Sam," she sighed quietly. Sam hadn't realized that he was standing in his anger.

"No! You're not my Mistress," he shouted. "I want to go back to him, take me back to Kurt. He needs me." Sam rarely allowed himself to get worked up to this point, but when someone was blatantly attacking his Master, he had no other option.

"Sit. Down." Quinn ordered, soon standing as well. "He doesn't need you. You don't need him. Do you not understand that I'm offering you your freedom? Why would you choose a life of slavery to be with him? He's not that special."

Her words cause Sam's blood to boil as he slammed his fist down on the table, causing the inhabitants of the home to jump and scurry away from the argument. "I do need him! You're the one that doesn't understand! He's the most special person in MY world."

"He has you brainwashed," Quinn murmured.

This only worked to enrage Sam even more. "That's bullshit," he shouted at her. "How dare you try to talk about this when you know nothing about it! You've kept us apart, you've never seen how he treats me or how much he cares about me!" With that, he held his wrists out. "Tie me up and take me back to him," he finished.

Quinn shook her head. "No."

"Now," Sam hissed, his voice laced with a plea.

"No," Quinn repeated. "He is a prisoner and—"

"So am I," he responded.

"You were a prisoner. I made the decision for you in granting you your freedom. You are a citizen of Aleryia now. You've crossed the Great Divide and earned your freedom from slavery to the Western Kingdom. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Sam blocked her way out of the building. "I don't want my freedom. I _want_ to be Kurt's slave. That's my entire life. That's all I know how to do."

Quinn smiled and gently pushed him out of the way. "Well then, I suggest that you learn something new to do with yourself, because you are no longer a slave. Do what you wish with your freedom. You can run back to your King if that's what you desire, but I assure you that you will die trying to get back."

Sam knew that she was right. He was still trapped, but now he was in an even worse position. He couldn't get back to the King because he would surely die on the trip. He couldn't get to Kurt because he was heavily guarded. There was nowhere for him to go. It almost felt as if he had less freedom now than he did as a slave. "Why are you doing this to me?" he finally managed.

"Because I'm doing what's best for you, Sam Evans. You might not see it now, but you will thank me for this at some point down the road." With that, the Princess quickly left the small home.

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><p><strong>AN: **I know that it has been a while, but I wanna see if there's still any interest for this story. Every now and then I get bursts of muse, so I decided to write a little to post.

Let me know if you're still interested in the progress of the story.

Thanks for reading!


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